


It's too cold outside (for angels to fly)

by smoviescenes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alastair is an asshole, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Butt Plugs, Drugs, FBI Agent Benny Lafitte, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, Forced Prostitution, M/M, Prostitute Castiel, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-14 03:42:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11199759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoviescenes/pseuds/smoviescenes
Summary: FBI agent Dean Winchester is sent to San Francisco to finish an old case - Alastair, king of human trafficking. When he bumps into his long-lost friend and lover Castiel in the red-light district, a lot of questions are brought to mind. Most important of all - will they be able to reawaken the repressed feelings they have for each other?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *I have never been in San Francisco and I have avoided googling 'San Francisco Red light district' for obvious reasons. This is purely fictional and I am simply picking random map locations for the story.* 
> 
> Wow, I have absolutely no idea where this is going but I guess we will find out! xx

Castiel had never expected to see Dean Winchester again. 

San Francisco, more than 1 500 miles from where they last met, and ten years since that life-changing night, and he recognizes him the moment he lays eyes on the back of his head. He thought he would be angry, sad, demanding answers, but none of those feelings outweighed the pure ache in his chest. 

He has missed him. _So much_. 

Every nerve inside his body is screaming at him to stay where he is leaning against a streetlight with his toes dangling off the edge of the pavement, but still he turns and walks away. It’s late at night, closer to morning than anything else and he should go somewhere else, because that is definitely an undercover police car and the last thing Castiel needs right now is more trouble. 

And he’s going to be late, _again_. 

Brakes screech to a halt and Castiel quickens his pace, hopes against all hope that he will make it to the end of the block and-

”Cas?”

And it’s like his whole world has stopped. 

”Cas? Is that you?”

The voice is gentle, boyish almost, and Castiel doesn’t know how to refuse him. He turns with his eyes directed to the ground, shoulders instinctively drawn up and -

He is crushed in a hug. A fierce, strong hug that leaves him breathless and quite possibly in shock.

”I thought I’d never see you again,” Dean mumbles against his shirt, fists twisted around in the fabric and it’s almost too much, a foreign display of emotion that messes up something inside. 

”What the hell are you doing here? And what the hell are you doing _here_? It’s four am!” 

Dean looks good, Castiel thinks. His shoulders are a little wider and his arms a little stronger than they used to be back when they were kids. There is something half-way along to a beard growing on his cheeks. 

He clears his throat and is surprised to find that he still has a voice.

”I-uh-I’m on my way home, I live just a few blocks away. Saturday night, you know.” He forces himself to smile and wink and he has to turn it off because this is Dean, not just any other guy in another car.

There is confusion and worry in Dean’s eyes but he hides it underneath something else. 

”I- it’s just so good to see you, man. I-”

The police car’s horn honks twice and Dean flips the driver. ”Give me a minute,” he shouts, wincing visibly at the curses that are cast out the window. 

”’m sorry, I’m supposed to be working. How about we meet? Tomorrow?”

Castiel doesn’t understand when Dean puts a card in his hand and hugs him again and yells at him to call him through the passenger window. 

 

∞

 

_Ten hours earlier, FBI quarters, Kansas City_

”Dean, Benny, get your butts over here before I slap you both with my bare hands.” 

Benny’s lips pull up in a sly grin and Dean snorts, shutting him up with a swat to the head before he can yell out a comment that will have them both suspended - which has happened on more than one occasion. They have been partners now for the better part of two years, ever since Benny lost his last partner in a shooting. The guy still has trouble lifting up a gun, let alone firing it. 

”Dean, Benny! I’m not going to ask you again!”

”Come on, brother. Let’s see what the dragon slayer wants this time.” Dean rolls his eyes but follows his partner to the main office. 

”Come on in, shut the door.” 

”If you wanted help with the door you could have just called for the kid,” Benny scoffs, at which Dean bares his teeth.

”Don’t call me ’kid’,” he hisses, to which Benny replies with a low, rumbling laugh.

”Boys,” their boss sighs, and effectively shuts them up. 

Dean has been very fond of Charlie since the first time they met. The fact that she can change from a gamer and a nervous chick to a badass warrior in a split second has earned her the nickname ”dragon slayer” around the office, which shows just how much respect all the guys have for her.

”I’m sorry for doing this to you, but I have no choice. You’re being moved to San Francisco to work with the local police force there.” 

Dean says, ”Oh, _come on._ ”

Benny says, ” _Hell no_ we ain’t.” 

Charlie gives them both a long look. ”One of our old cases has been reopened, a human trafficking-case from a while back. Benny and Connor worked on it for months.” 

Benny flinches at the name, as if it hurts him just to hear it. Maybe it does. 

”Please tell me it’s not-”

”It’s Alastair. As I said, I’m sorry. But DC are calling the shots on this one, and they want you, Benny. You and your partner.” 

”Who’s this Alastair guy anyway?” Dean asks, hoping to give Benny a second to pull himself together. The guy is visibly shook, worse than Dean has ever seen him, and he has seen him at a lot of low stages. Pulled him out of bars at two am. Let him crash at his place because there are some things that your three-year old daughter does not need to see. 

”We figure that’s his alias, there’s no surname. White male in his late forties, used to run the Red Demon’s Brothel here in Kansas. He’s been known to sell both men, women and children, the youngest one found was no more than twelve. He’s a freaking asshole. And we can’t get to him-”

”Because you can’t find him,” Benny fills in. ”There is - or was - no known adress, no physical house where the activities took place, nothing. At one point we got too close to him, and he vanished.”

Charlie chimes in, ”And only resurfaced a couple of months ago, now in San Francisco. DC is positive that it’s the same guy.” 

Benny rubs his temples and hangs his head forwards heavily. Dean can already tell that they are not going to enjoy this case. 

”So, where do we start?” 

 

∞

 

_Now_

Castiel is tired, he’s been walking all night, he hasn’t eaten at all since yesterday morning, he doesn’t want to go home, and he’s got Dean’s phone number on a piece of paper in his pocket. 

Dean Winchester. Stolen kisses under the stars, late nights turned into early mornings, skipping school on a Friday in May because the weather was just too damn nice and they drove all the way to Lake Michigan just because they could. Dean hadn’t even had a proper license, they had borrowed his dad’s car. 

His feet echo in the empty alleyway. Ruined soles against puddles and grime. He really needs a new pair of shoes. 

It isn’t a nice neighborhood, but it’s not the worst Castiel has lived in. At least now he has a roof over his head. 

The maintenance-guy with the red beard and the two earrings works today. He doesn’t spare as much as a glance in Castiel’s direction when he enters the building. 

The elevator is broken (again) so Castiel takes the stairs. Hopes it counts as daily exercise. 

Door 512 at the end of the corridor is white and clean, but the door handle is covered with oil and grime. Castiel tries to ignore it. He closes the door quietly, keeps his shoes on because the floor is filthy, walks to the master bedroom and peeks inside. 

Oh.

It’s been one of _those_ nights, and at once Castiel is grateful for being kicked out yesterday. For being told to ’earn some money on your own you spoiled brat’ because at least he didn’t have to witness _this_. 

There is blood on the sheets, too much blood and a smell that makes Castiel’s guts churn with sympathy and disgust. There is a woman in His arms, and it shouldn’t hurt and it’s twisted and sick but it still does. It still hurts to be replaced, even if it’s only for the night. 

”Castiel? I didn’t hear you come in.”

”I just got back.” 

”Well, go on, why don’t you get breakfast started? And after that you can clean up this mess.”

He gestures messily towards the stained sheets and-

Castiel has to cover his mouth and nose with his hands to keep from throwing up because there is a dead body on the floor. 

”How much did you make?” He asks, and shaking fingers pull out the crumpled bills from his back pocket. He stares at them with disinterest and snatches them from Castiel’s hand.

”Thought you could do better than that. Now, get on with it. I’m hungry.” 

Castiel nods obediently and gives Alastair one last glance before he slips out of the room.

 

∞

 

”Now who was that?” Benny asks in his southern roll. Dean can’t tell if he is concerned or confused or just curios. There’s a part of him that doesn’t want to talk about this, but lying has never been an option when it comes to his partner. 

”An old friend,” he replies quietly, hoping that they can leave it there. 

”Since when are you a hugger? I’ve never seen you wrap your arms around anyone that ain’t your little brother, my friend.”

Dean huffs a breath in protest. ”I hug you!” Benny just gives him a long look and Dean shakes the anger off.

”’m just sayin’.”

”He-”

_He was my first kiss, my first love, my best friend, he was everything, and I ruined it_.

”We used to be real close. I haven’t seen the guy in…” he makes a quick mental calculation and is stunned by the result: ”…ten years.” 

They fall silent for a moment, nothing but the buzz of the police radio erupting every now and then.

And then Benny asks the question that Dean really doesn’t want to think about.

”What’s he doin’ in these neighborhoods anyways?” 

 

∞

 

Castiel has come to a decision.

He is not going to call Dean.

For starters, he doesn’t actually own a phone, and if he by some miracle would be able to convince Alastair to lend him his, he would never be allowed to talk in privacy. 

It’s for the best, really. There is no way on earth he is going to get Dean dragged into his hellish life. 

He’s on the streets again tonight. It’s punishment for something that he did, something he can’t quite remember but he just wants it to be over so he can come back home and be the one to wake up in His arms. 

His hands are spasming so he clamps them in his armpits. Tries to look casual as he glances at every passerby through his eyelashes. 

It’s a cold night, and yet he is sweating. He shrugs his jacket off and as the air hits his skin through the thin shirt he feel marginally better. Hopefully he is not developing a fever. 

It’s much faster tonight, yesterday he had to wait for nearly two hours before he got lucky. As the car slows down to a halt he approaches it smoothly and leans against the door as the window is rolled down.

”How much?”

”Depends on what you want,” Castiel replies with his most gravelly voice.

”Get in.” He complies.

The car is clean, pristinely so, it still has that new-car smell and Castiel searches with his eyes until he finds the rental-car-marker. Smart guy.

Sitting in the back seat, Castiel can only see his profile but he knows that he is looking at a married man, late forties, slightly overweight with a nasty-looking scar on his right cheek. And since he is picking up a guy in the red-light district, Castiel can only figure that he is gay but denying it, married to a woman he doesn’t love. 

”50 for a handjob, 100 to blow you. If you want more than that it all depends on the circumstances.”

The guy swallows with a loud click. ”Circumstances?”

”Top, bottom, condom, bareback…” Castiel ticks the choices off his fingers. 

The guy swallows again. Castiel can see in the twitch of his fingers that he definitely wants something more. 

”T-top?” he says uncertainly.

”That’s 500. 600 without a condom.” 

”I didn’t bring any-”

”Don’t worry about that,” Castiel smiles. He is afraid to be too hopeful, but maybe he can get away without bruises this round. ”So, where are we doing this?” 

”I don’t-”

”How about in the car? This back seat doesn’t look so bad.” He starts unzipping his pants slowly and meets the guy’s eyes in the rearview mirror. ”There is parking lot, your next left.” 

Once they are safely parked and the engine is turned off, the guy glances back over his shoulder. He is handsome, even with the scar, and Castiel pats the seat beside him. Makes sure to give him the right look through his lashes. 

The guy steps out and clumsily takes a seat in the back, torso twisted towards Castiel who approaches him with ease. There is definitely a bulge in the guys’ crotch, and going by how his breath hitches when Castiel squeezes it, he’s been aching for this for quite some time. 

”Naked or with clothes on?” Castiel whispers as he pulls in closer, hands massaging the outline of his cock and thighs.

”I want you naked,” he says with a little more confidence, and Castiel nods as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. Getting his clothes off in the cramped car proves a bit difficult and he doesn’t manage to be quite as graceful about it as he wished, but soon he is naked and his erection is bobbing slightly against his stomach. 

”There’s a plug in, just pull it out. And here-” he locates the back pocket of his jeans and grabs a condom, putting it on the seat between them before he turns around and presents his ass. The guy growls possessively but doesn’t touch him, still looks uncertain until-

”I want you to top.” 

An unknown tension leaves Castiel’s shoulders and he turns around, fingers finding buttons and a zipper and he frees the guy’s straining erection without preamble. 

”Turn around,” he whispers, but the guy only shakes his head.

”I want to see you.” 

It should be flattering but it sends sparks of nausea through Castiel’s gut that he forces himself to ignore. Instead he pulls the guy’s pants and boxers down to his ankles and positions himself between his legs, reaching for the lube in his coat and he gently starts prodding at his hole.

”No kissing, no suction-marks. Bad for business,” he grins, and the guy nods desperately. 

”Just do it, please.” 

”Easy there, tiger. Is this your first time?”

He shakes his head. Alright then.

Castiel lets his first finger slip inside, dragging soft moans from the man below him that only intensify when he adds a second. He loosens up rather quickly, making Castiel wonder if he has fingered himself recently. Two fingers become three, stretching and pulling and prodding at the man’s prostate, his dick now looking painfully hard. 

”Are you ready, big boy?” Castiel purrs, rolling the condom in place with one hand while the other continues to pump into the man’s asshole. He clenches around Castiel’s fingers and nods, too disheveled to find words. 

It all works out pretty smoothly. Castiel pulls his fingers out and hurries to replace them with his lubed cock, giving a few seconds for the man to readjust before he starts to wiggle his hips back and forth, starting out with small movements that gradually grow into full-blown thrusts. The man’s eyes are shut but he lets out small moans of pleasure, his breaths coming out in short bursts as Castiel makes sure to angle his hips against his prostate and still get enough friction against the man’s leaking dick. 

Castiel hasn’t topped in a long time, and suddenly the dominant parts of him tread forward. He puts a hand on the man’s shoulder for leverage, uses it to thrust into him almost brutally, long, hard strokes that has them both groaning (not a fake groan from Castiel, not this time). For a split second he comes to his senses and wonders if the man will allow him to orgasm, but then the man starts clenching around his cock as he comes and Castiel needs the release. He has been aching for it for too long. Their stomachs are painted white just as Castiel spills his load inside the condom, allowing his control to slip for just one second as the man continues to clench around him, helping him through the post-orgasm-waves. He at least has the presence of mind to reach a hand down between them and do the same in return. 

The man stays quiet when it’s done. Doesn’t ask to be cuddled, just leaves an arm over his eyes as Castiel gets dressed, mumbles at him to take whatever he owes him from the wallet in his pants. 400 to top with a condom is not outrageous, at least not for Castiel.

”I’ll be in the same spot next week. If you want to have another go,” he says quietly, planting a kiss to the man’s hand before he gracefully climbs outside. 

There is a strange sort of joy inside him because of the rather pleasant experience. Almost like that time he was taken home by a guy in a bar and they’d had sex on the couch of his living room. Almost like Castiel was a normal person who could have normal things, almost like he isn’t a prostitute. 

He smiles to himself and wiggles his hips a little just to feel the pleasant burn of the butt-plug in his ass. Maybe if the man returns next week they can do it the other way around, and hopefully Castiel will have gained a regular who he could actually look forward to seeing. 

It takes him a while to get back to his corner of the street, but once he has leaned against the street lamp it doesn’t take long until another car pulls up.

This time, he is not quite as lucky. 

 

∞

 

They pick up a chick on Broadway/Powell Street. The poor girl probably figured that she was in for a threesome, at least until Benny flashed his ID - they had to hold her still and convince her that she wasn’t in any trouble, they just want to talk. 

”Fuck off,” she bites, showing off two pointy incisors. 

”You talk to your mother with that mouth?” Benny snarls back. 

”I suck cock with this mouth you stupid ugly-ass cop.” 

”Hey, let’s just calm down,” Dean interrupts, holding up one hand in front of either of them, as if he physically needs to hold them back. ”We’re just looking for someone called Alastair. He runs some sort of bordell-” The girl snorts, so Dean rolls his eyes and changes it to: ”-whorehouse in town. He wouldn’t be in one place for too long. Real sadistic piece of shit.” 

The girl actually smiles at that. 

”Sorry, I keep my nose out of other people’s business.” Benny and Dean simultaneously buff themselves up to prepare to fight her for more information, and deflate just as quickly when she keeps talking. ”However, there’s this woman, few blocks from here. She might know something else.”

”Your boss?” Dean scoffs, shrinking back like he’s about to be hit because the girl’s eyes turn fiery and she points an angry finger at him.

”She saved my life. Don’t you dare get her into trouble. Her name’s Missouri. Missouri Moseley.”

”And where would we find her?”

The girl smiles again, a dangerous smile.

”You don’t. Stay here and I will fetch her for you.” 

 

Missouri Moseley is definitely not what Dean had expected. She is loud, black, has short curly hair and intense eyes that burn through your very soul.

Dean is wary of her. Benny looks at her as if she held a plate full of pecan pie. 

”So, you two boys looking for trouble?” she investigates, eyes flickering from Dean to Benny, back to Dean, back to Benny…

Dean clears his throat and the eyes stop on him. ”We are FBI.”

”Oh, honey, I knew that the moment I saw your car. Nobody knows the look of an unmarked police car better than me.” 

”Because you’re a criminal?” 

”I should give your ass a whooping!” she bursts, making Benny hide a fit of giggles behind a large hand. ”I look out for these poor boys and girls like no one else does. Certainly not your government. So don’t go calling me a criminal when you are the ones who can’t do your jobs!” 

”Sorry, m’am,” Dean mumbles, not really registering what he is saying until it’s too late. 

”Now,” she continues, exhaling heavily with the worries of the world resting on her brow. ”That Alastair is a bastard and I want nothing more than to see him behind bars.” A crinkle appears on the bridge of her nose. ”The electrical chair would do too, now that I think of it.” 

Dean gives Benny a nervous glance. Exactly what are they up against?

”What do you need to know?” Missouri says kindly, and Dean quickly pulls out a pen and paper.

 

∞

 

When Castiel wakes up he can’t breathe. The blood is thick in his nose and the ball gag in his mouth is just _too big_. At least he has a bit of luck left, because his hands are free and he can rip the thing off, choking and dry-heaving but in a few seconds he slumps down on the bed again, breathing heavily through his mouth. 

_How long have I been unconscious?_

There is no one there to answer him. He should consider that to be a streak of luck as well. 

On the empty pillowcase next to his head lies a pile of dollar bills, which makes him lift his torso up onto his elbows and grab the money.

900 dollars. That’s-

That’s a lot of money. 

One of the bills has some words scribbled on them, words that Castiel can’t read until he has wiped the grime and dirt from his eyes.

_A little bonus for you. Same time next week._

He wants to throw up. He tears the bill with the words on it to pieces, tosses them into the air and watches as they swivel to the ground like confetti at the end of a concert.

Castiel hasn’t had any regulars in a long time, he hasn’t really been out on the streets much lately, not since Alastair adopted him as his personal toy. He wonders what Alastair will think of this, if he will allow it.

He hasn’t talked to him since that girl- since he had to- 

A cry slips from his lips as he sits up. He can’t help it. There is a burn going from his ass to his spine, and when he pulls the blue plug out he’s not even surprised to see it covered in blood. 

He limps to the bathroom in a very undignified manner, grateful that no one is there to see it, and slips into the shower.

The water pressure is adequate and the temperature pleasant, meaning that the hotel is probably a bit more expensive than the usual ones. 

He cleans his nose as best as he can, remembers being shoved into the wall face-first and prods at it gingerly (praying that it isn’t broken). Bruises are already blooming on his arms and hips, ugly, finger-shaped things that don’t come off no matter how much soap he rubs into them. 

Tears sting in his eyes when he puts the nozzle against his ass. He does it quickly, without allowing himself to put too much thought into it. 

It is still early in the morning and he allows himself to slip into the bed (after removing the comforter, ruined by sex and blood and sweat). The sheets are cool and soft and he just wants everything to end.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I APOLOGIZE for being so slow to update, hopefully you will stick with me anyways xx Thank you for all the sweet comments and making me believe that this is worth finishing!

When four days have passed since their last encounter, Dean has almost given up on hearing from Castiel. 

Damn it, he should have gotten his number as well, because what if that was it, what if they never see each other again, what if he has lost him-

”Hello?” he answers the phone on the first ring. At first, all he can hear is heavy breathing and he is ready to hang up when the person calling clears his throat.

”Dean?” 

Dean instantly sits a little straighter and presses the phone closer to his ear.

”Cas? Is that you, man?” 

He can almost hear the guy smile. ”Yes. How are you, Dean?”

”Uh-” he rubs the back of his neck as if he can stop the blush from spreading. ”I’m good. All good. You?”

There is a slight pause and some crackling static.

”I need to ask you a favor.” 

”’course, anything you need.” 

”Could you give me a ride? I’m at Geary/21st. I would take the bus but I’m not exactly decent.” 

Dean has no idea what that means but he doesn’t care. 

”I’ll be there in fifteen. Just hang on.”

”Thank you.”

And he hangs up. 

Benny looks up at him from his desk with a raised eyebrow.

”I’m taking out my lunch break now.”

”It’s not even 11am!”

”See you later,” Dean says hastily, grabs his jacket and is out the door. 

He wasn’t allowed to bring the impala with him, Charlie insisted that he and Benny share the single unmarked car (”You won’t have any substantial amount of time off anyways. Take the cable car instead.”). It’s an old chevrolet, black like the impala, but not even half as shiny or well-kept. The front left break needs to be replaced and the spark plugs are getting really tired. 

Dean has no trouble finding Castiel, since the guy is standing exactly on the corner of the two mentioned roads wearing nothing but a button-down shirt tucked into a pair of dress pants. A bracelet or a watch on his left wrist twinkles a little as sunlight reflects off it. 

He doesn’t look cold, but it’s no more than 50 degrees out and even with the sun, it’s kind of chilly. 

Dean stops next to him and he almost looks frightened. At least until Dean rolls the window down and offers a smile that gets stuck in his throat.

Bruises cover Cas’s nose and spread to look like dark circles under his eyes. He lights up as he recognizes Dean but still looks slightly dimmed at the edges. When he climbs into the car he does it slowly, seeming to support most of his weight on his hands as he almost lifts his body inside.

The door shuts the sound of street out and Dean can hear his heartbeat in his ears.

”What happened?”

Cas gives him a confused little look, complete with the head-tilt and the scrunching of his eyebrows, and only then does he seem to remember the state of himself and nods knowingly.

”I was robbed.”

He says it matter-of-factly, as if it is something that occurs regularly.

”You should call the police!” 

A soft chuckle makes Dean’s chest vibrate and he has to look away from the bruises to stop himself from staring too obviously.

”I’m fine, Dean. If you could just drop me off at Pacific Avenue, I would be grateful.”

Dean snorts but puts the car into first gear and pulls out into the traffic.

”As long as you give me directions. I haven’t been here that long.” Cas nods solemnly and points him in the right direction. 

Dean can’t help stealing a few glances in his direction. Worried glances, because Cas’s hands are trembling visibly even though he has them clamped between his legs, and there is a fine sheet of sweat on his brow. 

”Why are you in San Francisco?” Cas asks suddenly, as if trying to break the tension. Dean swallows thickly and turns his eyes forward again, taking a left when Cas tells him to.

”Work. The FBI are investigating some guy who moved here from Kansas. My partner - work partner, that is - was in charge of his case a few years back. DC wanted him to continue.” 

Cas nods but doesn’t say anything else. Dean’s insides are _screaming_ , he is _aching_ to touch him now that he is so close and never wants to let him out of his sight again because this Cas seems so paper thin that he could be swept away any second. 

”What about you? How did you end up here?” Dean asks in return, hoping to get some sort of explanation. Cas deflates visibly and turns his gaze out the side window.

”I ask myself that question every day.” 

 

∞

 

Castiel has one foot out of the car, wanting to escape the stiff silence between them (that only exists because he is too frightened to speak). He is torn between wanting to stay and needing to run away, needing to find Alastair because his hands are shaking and his heart is racing in his chest. 

He wonders if Dean would understand. But then he sees a flash of his badge and realizes that if he told him, he would be arrested on the spot. 

”Cas, please,” Dean breathes, and he freezes. ”Talk to me. Are you even happy to see me? Why won’t you tell me what’s troubling you?” 

They are both equally surprised by the hug. Castiel lunges forwards before he can change his mind, and he probably smells awful and is way too urgent but Dean doesn’t seem to care. He just pulls him in deeper and drags fingernails across his scalp, leaving a trail of want behind. 

”I have missed you,” Castiel manages to admit. There are so many other things to say, but maybe this will do for now. Dean exhales a bit of tension and holds him even tighter. 

”What the hell happened, Cas? Where did you go?” 

 

∞

 

_Ten years ago_

Dean likes driving. He likes driving his father’s ’67 Chevrolet Impala even more. There is something about the warm black leather and the finger-shaped dents in the steering-wheel that feels more like home than any house Dean has ever lived in. 

Driving the Impala on a warm afternoon with Castiel next to him? Probably the best thing he has ever experienced (it’s up there along with holding baby Sammy for the first time). 

Cas has the window cranked down and is holding his face out in the wind like a dog, grinning happily as Dean accelerates. 

”Alright, pull your head in before you get hit by a tree branch or somethin’. Come on,” Dean laughs, tugging at his arm. Cas complies with a bit of a pout, but keeps his hand out in the wind. 

”Let’s go somewhere,” he mumbles, angling his hand to let the wind flow around it.

”Go where?” Dean breathes. 

”Well, Lake Michigan was nice.” Dean smiles at the memory, sunny and warm and still fresh in his mind, and he would kill to go back there. 

”We can’t. I’m watching Sammy.” 

”So drop him off at your Uncle’s.”

”He’s not home.” 

A crinkle appears between Cas’s eyebrows, one that Dean reaches for to smooth out. Cas tugs his head out of his reach.

”But I know the next best thing,” Dean suggests, hand retreating to the hold the wheel. 

The Impala rolls to a quiet halt on the top of the hill. It’s an old military bunker, one that John showed him and Sam when they were younger, when they still did things together. Besides a walking trail that goes right past the entrance, it’s completely secluded and Dean has returned many times whenever he needed to be alone. 

Now he pulls Castiel outside and together they climb onto the hood of the Impala, engine warm underneath the hood. They talk for hours, the distance between them shrinking until Cas is clinging to his side, head resting on his shoulder. His hair is soft to the touch and when Dean pushes his fingers against his scalp, he pushes back into the touch, almost cat-like. 

Dean can feel the growing bulge that is Cas’s erection against his thigh. He remembers a hotel room in Michigan, bed slamming against the wall like in some porn movie. How they hadn’t been sated even after three rounds. 

”Dean,” Cas sighs, pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of his throat and Dean’s breaths are growing erratic. He stays still, allows Cas to climb on top of him and keep sucking at his throat, animalistic noises escaping them both until Cas rocks his hips _down_ , _roughly_ , and Dean cries out at the pressure. 

After a quick de-tour to the glove compartment, Dean has Cas spread underneath him, fingers stretching him out and lost in the love around them.

Neither of them notice the three women that walk past on the trail down the hill. They don’t notice how they look up at the sound of squealing bumpers, or how the tall, red-headed woman covers her mouth with a hand as she recognizes one of the boys as her son.

 

∞

 

_Now_

”I- I didn’t know. Shit, Cas, I’m so sorry,” Dean mumbles. Castiel shakes his head and wishes that he could tell him the rest but he _can’t_. 

”She confronted me when I came home. And then she kicked me out. Told me that I was no longer her son.”

”Why didn’t you call me? You could have stayed with us, Cas, damn it, you _should_ have stayed with us. You’re family-”

Dean keeps talking but Castiel shuts his voice out. Remembers taking a shortcut to get to Dean’s house because he could barely see because of all the tears. Remembers cold hands that grabbed him and knocked him out, and the next time he woke up he was shaking with need and only He could relieve the pain. 

He remembers being beaten and abused and used in unspeakable ways, finding no comfort except afterwards, when He came and sent him spiraling off into another world. Being locked in for years and suddenly moved to a new city. 

”…to your house and tried talking to your mother. She told me about the boarding school in Miami, that you weren’t allowed phones or anything. She promised to send you my letters but when you never replied I sort of stopped-”

Dean’s voice seems faraway but Castiel wants to cry at his words. Wishing that things were as simple as his mother refusing to forward Dean’s letters. 

He can’t lie to Dean, but he doesn’t know how to tell him the truth. 

”I never went to Miami. There wasn’t a boarding school, when I came home she had packed my things and left them on the porch. Screamed at me that I had let down the family and then she locked the door. Told me that if I didn’t leave she would find a way to _make me_ leave.”

Dean pulls him back into the hug and holds him tighter than he ever has before. 

”I’m so sorry.” Castiel allows himself to enjoy being held without fear, the embrace different from anything he has felt in ten years. He is so in tune with Dean’s touch that he can feel the moment he retreats into himself, pulling back abruptly but he doesn’t let go, not completely.

”Does this mean that you haven’t been home since then? You don’t-” his voice trails of when Castiel nods. He is confused. Why would Dean-

”You don’t know, do you? Shit.” The curse is spoken softly, barely more than a whisper. Castiel pulls back enough to meet Dean’s eyes, and sees pain and regret flood the green.

”Your mother is dead, Cas. She got lung cancer, it was over in just a few months. It must be about…four years ago now.” 

Castiel swallows past the lump in his throat. He can’t-

How did this-

Why would she-

He should be relieved that the woman who ruined his life is gone, but all he can feel is sorrow because the woman who was his mother for sixteen years is dead. He shakes his head almost brutally in denial, wishing that Dean could take the words back but all he does is pull him closer and soothe him with his whiskey-deep voice. 

 

∞

 

Dean had to leave sooner or later. Benny has called him and left messages and threatened to kick his ass if he doesn’t show up _this instant_ , but Dean ignored it all. Had lunch with Castiel and made him laugh again and forget the fact that his bitch of a mother is dead. 

However, now it’s dark outside the restaurant and they both have to go home. Dean will have one hell of a day tomorrow trying to explain himself to Benny, and Cas-

Cas probably has something to do as well. Dean can’t really tell because he finds it hard to read the guy. 

”Thank you, Dean. Today has been a good day.” 

”Good.” He pauses. ”D’you think we could do it again?”

Cas offers a smile and opens the passenger door, feet out of the car when he replies. ”I hope so.” 

 

The following morning, Dean is prepared to be smacked on the head, get a handful of curses and a proper scolding. 

He is not prepared to be woken up at 3am by Benny’s frantic knocking. 

”If this is your way of punishing me for yesterday, it’s really not funny.”

”Police found a body down on Pacific Avenue. Guy with one of them bracelets that Moseley was talkin’ ’bout.”

Dean’s blood runs cold (because he dropped Cas on Pacific Avenue just last night, and what if something has happened to him?) and he gets up without a single complaint. Grabs his badge and phone and is out the door in a flash. 

Benny drives, it doesn’t take more than a few minutes. The little bit of pavement where the body lies has been shut off with police tape, and a few officers are guiding curious pedestrians to the other side of the road. 

Dean is immediately relieved when he spots a tuft of blond hair on the street. Forensics are already there and Benny convinces them to give them a few moments to check out the body, while Dean is already picturing how it went down.

’Multiple stab wounds through the abdomen’: the guy was attacked by someone facing him, strong.

’A lot of blood on the scene’: Dean can see a fine trail of blood leading away from the body, towards the next intersection. He was attacked somewhere else. Seeing as it is a big street and probably busy 24/7, it must have happened quite recently. 

While Benny and forensics-guy (short, balding, with round glasses and a twitch in his nose) approach the dead guy, Dean follows the trail of blood. It’s easy enough, regular drops on the pavement where the guy wasn’t able to hold his guts together. A smear like a handprint right on the corner of the building, and another one on a street lamp. 

Dean follows it for another hundred yards or so, until it runs cold outside an apartment complex. It looks old and worn-down, and when a bearded guy with two earrings comes outside with a toolbox Dean is quick to turn and walk away. No point getting in trouble before they have a warrant-

Both he and the beard-guy react at the scream, but while Dean heads for the entrance to the building, beard-guy heads straight towards Dean. They crash into each other, palms against chest, and Dean is sent to the ground, breath knocked out of him. 

”You stay the hell away,” beard-guy growls, slightly leaned forwards as if ready to attack him again. Dean only laughs quietly and gets to his feet. 

”Is that supposed to be a threat?” 

”I mean it. Go back to where you came from.” 

Another scream. Something inside Dean urges him to press on. He takes two quick steps towards the door, and just as beard-guy is about to lunge at him he side-steps and pushes him onwards, making him crash face-first into the street. A kick to the door is all it takes to bust it open, and he runs inside. 

He knocks on every goddamn door in the building, searches every corner of the four floors but he can’t locate the source of the screams. Frustration seeps through his every vein and when he meets a woman wearing scrubs in the staircase (the elevator is broken) she just laughs at him. 

”That’s just Matilda. She says it’s rage therapy.” 

”What are you doing up this early, m’am?” Dean enquires, needing some sort of logical answer to something because he is going crazy. 

”I work night shifts at the hospital. Just got back. Good day to you!” 

And she’s gone in a flash. 

Benny just looks at his torn clothes and wipes the dust off his back when he returns. 

”Call for backup next time,” he grunts, then delves into sharing what he and the bald forensics-guy discovered. 

 

∞

 

Castiel has been hit too many times. He doesn’t dodge the blows anymore, just takes them and hopes that Alastair will be done soon.

”You let him get away!” he shouts, fist connecting with Castiel’s nose and there is blood, so much blood, a knife and Alastairs hysterical screams of pleasure and power, and then someone’s guts are slipping out between their fingers and the blood has ruined the sheets, the floor, it’s everywhere and-

”Listen to me, boy!” 

Balthazar had fought to keep breathing as they stumbled outside, one hand on his stomach and the other around Castiel’s neck. Holding on so tight that his spine creaked in protest. They made it out onto the street, and onwards towards Pacific Avenue, Castiel dragging Balthazar along with a strength he did not know that he possessed. 

Then _they_ had come along, Gerald and Raul and Jake, and they had torn Castiel out of Balthazar’s grip and pulled him back. 

They had been friends, Castiel and Balthazar. Or something similar to friends. At the least there had been some sort of trust between them that had gotten them out of a lot of trouble through the years, and now Castiel doesn’t have anyone left, everyone is dead and gone and-

Alastair hits him again and Castiel takes it even though he shouldn’t be able to. The drugs are back in his system and he is numb to the outside world, barely notices how the punches turn into kisses. How Alastair opens him up, gets him completely naked and guides him onto his elbows and knees on the bed. He chokes on air as that thick cock enters him, pushes past his protesting muscles and starts fucking him at a brutal pace. Teeth clamp down on the flesh of his shoulder and he cries out, starts giving back because that is the only way he can make it end. 

Balthazar, his one and only friend in this hell of a life, is dead. He falls limply onto the bed when Alastair is finished, and wonders when he will be the one to take a knife to the stomach. 

 

∞

 

The next time Dean and Cas meet, Dean can’t pretend like nothing is wrong with his friend anymore. It’s 1am, Dean is driving along Pacific Avenue in search for someone wearing Alastair’s bracelets (Missouri had told them all about them - bracelets that hookers wear, made to reflect the car’s headlights to let the driver know that they are available. Every pimp has a color of their own - Alastair’s being white). 

He sees a flash of white and stops immediately. Looks at the girl, tries to see if she could possibly be one of Alastair’s slaves, decides that it’s impossible to tell. She has a watch around her wrist that probably reflected the light. 

At the next block he parks the car and rubs his face tiredly. Wonders, not for the first time, how Sam’s doing. He’s promised to pay him a visit at Stanford before he goes back to Kansas, but he has no idea how long that’ll take. 

Another flash of white sparks his interest, but when he looks up confusion and worry strikes him hard. The shaggy shape that is Cas can be seen a few yards ahead, pants slung low on his waist and an open button down reveals a lean, bruised torso. 

He’s stumbling forward, nearly crashing into the car, and when Dean gets out he doesn’t even recognize him at first.

”It’s me, Cas. Dean!” he urges, shaking his shoulders almost violently. Cas hiccups and smiles, showing too much gum and it’s all wrong.

”Dean,” he laughs, pawing at his face with cold fingers. ”You’re _green_.” He chuckles softly and shifts his weight, nearly falls into Dean’s torso (would have fallen too, if Dean hadn’t caught him and straightened him up). 

Dean looks at his blue, unfocused eyes and all he can see is the gentle, quiet boy that he fell in love with all those years ago. Now, Cas seems broken somehow. Disheveled, unhinged. 

”What happened to you, man?”

He opens his mouth as if to reply, then swallows visibly before he actually speaks. ”Life.”

Dean just knows that he wanted to say something else. 

”Are you-dude, are you high?”

He laughs unhappily and raises his arms in exasperation.

”Generally, yeah.” 

”Come on,” Dean growls, grabs his arm and pulls him (quite roughly) into the car.

”What are you doing?”

”I’m taking you to my hotel room to let you sleep it off. Then we’ll talk.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't really know what happened here and this might be the worst fic I've written, but it's finished now. I just wanted it to be over tbh, *ugh*.

_”What the hell happened to you, man?”_

_You. You happened to me._  
Castiel wakes up shivering. The - whatever drug Alastair pumped into his system - is wearing off and he _needs_ more, he needs it _now_ or he’s going to-

”Hey, calm down. Here.” Dean’s calm voice is enough to make him open his eyes and accept the glass of water. He downs it too quickly and can feel it sloshing around in his stomach, an unsettling-

”You better start talking, buddy. I need to know what the _hell_ is going on.” 

Castiel tries to get his eyes to focus on Dean, tries to get them to focus on _anything_ because right now things are just bright and blurry. He reaches to put the glass down and it slips out of his weak fingers, Dean catching it just before it hits the floor.

”What’s this? What are you doing wearing one of these?” Dean continues, showing something off in his left hand. Castiel absently touches his right wrist and is instantly more alert. 

His bracelet! It’s gone!

”How did you-”

”How did I know what this means? Remember how I told you that I’m an FBI-agent? Well, it turns out that I’m trying to catch your fucking _boss_.” 

”I don’t know what you’re-”

”The hell you do, Cas. Come on.” He lifts his hands, a helpless gesture, and points at himself. ”It’s _me_ you’re talking to. _Me_. This is exactly what happened all those years ago, if you’d just _trusted_ me this never would have happened!” 

”Dean, I-”

”You fucking _disappeared_ , man. Without a single word. I- I didn’t know what to think.” He rubs a hand over his face and Castiel just wants to calm him down but he doesn’t know what to say. ”I thought I’d done something wrong. That I’d hurt you, or- hell, I don’t know. Okay? I mean, I haven’t even _looked_ at a guy in that way in ten years because I can’t stop thinking that if only I’d done something differently, if only I’d-”

”Dean.” Castiel tries to interrupt him, but it’s pointless. Dean keeps rambling incoherently and doesn’t stop until Castiel has grabbed his face in his hands and pressed a fierce kiss to his lips. 

And when Dean finally returns the kiss, it’s better than any drug Castiel has ever taken. 

They break apart with heavy breaths and Dean presses their brows together, holding on for just a few seconds longer. 

”I was on my way to your house that night,” Castiel says, voice barely more than a whisper. ”You know West Avenue? The street we were always told to stay away from?”

”It’s a great shortcut between our houses,” Dean fills in. 

”I was knocked out and when I woke up they had loaded me with drugs and I just- I needed more. He said the only way I’d get more was if I-”

Dean lets out a wrecking sob and wraps his arms tighter around him. Castiel welcomes the pressure, the safety of Dean’s embrace and a small part of him thinks that maybe this is it - maybe he can finally be free from Alastair’s grasp. 

”Cas, we have to catch this son of a bitch. But we’re gonna need your help.” 

”Anything.” 

 

∞

 

”This is a stupid plan,” Dean says for what is certainly the hundredth time. Benny takes a deep breath and gives his partner a look that says ’ _if you complain one more time I’m gonna put you in handcuffs and do it myself’_. 

It’s not that he doesn’t understand Dean’s worry, because he does - he isn’t blind. He has seen the way Dean looks at Castiel, the quick touches and worried glances, and he understands. 

But they still have to do this. And Castiel is on board with it.

”It’s okay, Dean,” Castiel says, and Benny meets his eyes in the rearview mirror. 

He is a brave soul, and even though Benny is more focused on actually getting the bad guy, he still hopes that he will be alright. 

Dean swallows loudly and tugs at his earlobe.

”What’ll he do to you? If he finds out before we get there?” 

Castiel smiles without emotion. It’s a sad thing.

”Nothing he hasn’t done before.” 

In some ways, Castiel reminds Benny of a guy he met in Kansas years ago, back when he was chasing Alastair the first time. He couldn’t have been more than twenty, and even though he had been through things that no living person should ever have to go through, he risked his life to do the right thing. 

That time, they hadn’t been so lucky. Alastair had killed him before the police could reach the scene, and then he vanished. 

Benny has not yet shared this information with Dean. Hopefully, he won’t have to.

”It’s time, brother,” Benny says quietly. Dean clenches his jaw and nods, turning back to Castiel.

”You be safe, you hear me? Don’t do anything stupid.” 

Benny looks away as Castiel leans forwards and kisses him on the mouth without warning. It’s a flushed Dean that slumps in his seat once Castiel has left the car.

”Not a word,” he muttes. Benny raises his hands with a chuckle and shakes his head.

”Wasn’t gonna say nothing.”

”How long do we have to wait?” Dean sighs, glancing at his watch again.

”We need proof that the book is in there. Without it we have no evidence against him.” 

Oh, The Book, capital T, capital B. Missouri had explained it in all its gruesome detail, how it was the one place where Alastair kept information about his ”employees” and customers. It is the only way they can guarantee protection for witnesses, and the only way they can _find_ witnesses besides Castiel. 

The minutes tick by, and Dean grows more and more restless. 

”He should have given us the signal by now.”

”Take it easy.” 

”What if something went wrong?” 

”He’s fine.” 

Ten minutes later, Dean gets out of the car before Benny can even try to stop him. 

”Dean-”

”What? I won’t just sit here and wait for him to- to-” He snarls in frustration and keeps going. ”Thatdead guy we found a few days ago? That was Cas’s _friend_. And this building?” he gestures towards the apartment complex that Castiel disappeared into fifteen minutes ago. ”When I disappeared that day, I searched this building because I heard _screams_. I searched every goddamn room but found nothing. Because apparently there is an entire hidden floor that Alastair owns and right now Cas is up there!” 

Benny is just about to try to placate his friend when a scream tears itself through the air, low and guttural and before he can even blink, Dean is running through the door. 

”I’m getting to old for this,” Benny huffs to himself as he runs after him.

The elevator is broken, so they rush up the stairs. All the way to the fourth floor, then Dean leads him through a utility closet and to a second, hidden set of stairs. 

From there and onwards, it’s completely chaotic. The corridor they reach is bright white, almost hospital-like in is sterilized hue, and each door is identical. They bust open door after door, find women and men with white bracelets and hollow cheeks, some that are alone, some that are not. 

Benny finds it harder and harder with every door that he opens, because this is what he should have stopped all those years ago - this is what he was powerless against. 

A young girl, surely not more than sixteen, half-naked underneath a brute of a man that Benny pulls away, knocks unconscious and handcuffs to the bed post. Tries to comfort the girl but finds that words are not really his thing. 

When he reaches the last door on the right, it’s eerily quiet and Benny prepares to see Dean in the same position as Connor, neck twisted to the side and eyes glazed over. 

What he finds instead is something very private that he isn’t sure that he should watch.

Alastair is lying on his stomach, unconscious or dead, Benny can’t tell. But on the floor in front of the bed sits Dean and Castiel, wrapped around each other and exchanging comforting words and roaming hands. Despite the blood and the chaos around them, the only thing Benny can see is the pure love that radiates between the two. 


End file.
